, 1887-01-21

~ a. W u itdtiici, lii Ale PiOPo-
sition was very forcibly demonstrated
for Marie Prot, one windy autumn
evening. not long afterwards, as the lit
tie c%hoir-group came into the street to-
gether. She was walking with Lucy
Crumm. as usual, and behind them,
s~rm-in-arm, came the bass and enc
Miss Roberts, the alto, had said good
night and gone off in the opposite direc-
ton with her little brother; Miss Prot
was listening with her ears to the voice
beside her, and with her soul to the
voice behind her, when suddenly away
on the wings of the wind went her long
brown feather, wrenched from its
f~astenings on her jaunty hat; away and
away, careering and whirling out of
sight like a living creature that had
found all at once the freedom of its
wings. Marie uttered a little half
laughing cry. and started on the chase;
but the tenor darted by her like a flash,
and soon distanced her, as the feather
distanced him. Marie did not slacken
her pace, however, and as a result, when
the feather was at last captured, they
found themselves face to face, laughing.
breathless, under a street-lamp, and
more thar a block ahead of Mr.. Aiken
and Miss Crumm What more natural
than that they should walk on together,
slowly. or that Mr.. Wetzel, seeing her
out of breath from her late exercise,
should offer her his ARM? There seemed
no valid reason why they should dis
solve this pleasant companionship when
the other two caught up with them; and
from this time, instead of putting the
ladies in the street car at T~wenty-third
street, Mr.. Aiken walked with Miss
Crumm to her home in T~wenty-fifth
street, and Mr.. Wetzel walked all the
way across town with Marie Prot.
1t was a wretched night; the rain fell
in torrents, a chilly wind was blowing,
the streets were wet and dismal, and
Marie Prot was walking under IN UNI
brella with Gustave Wetzel ard cling
ing fondly to his arm. The rain was
binding her somewhat, but her tears
were binding her still more-furtive, bit
ter tears, such as women often weep,
unknown to all the world. The crowded
street cars passed them ever minute or
two, but Marie had refused to ride. This
was the last time they would ever walk
together-the last of many, many times.
She could not afford to shorten these
few sad moments of parting and fare
well. He had come to the choir that
evening only to tell them that he had
been suddenly called back to Germany
and must sail in the morning; but he
had staid and sang over with Marie some
of the old duets, and now they were
walking home together, slowly. through
all the storm. by the way they had
learned to know so well.
At first few words were spoken be-
tween them. Marie felt only the I'M
reasoning love, the delight of contact,
the bliss of this dual solitude encircled
by rain and storm and darkness. To
her it mattered little what they said or
where they went, SC that they were to-
gether; and tomorrow was pushed as
far from her horizon as if it were
twenty years away. But all the truth
came back on her like a shock when
Gustave's voice said:
81 must thank you, Miss Prot, for the
kindness you have given to me always
to me. a stranger: 1 shall often think
of your lovely voice when l am far
away"
I'VE nave indeed had pleasant times, ="
she answered, bravely and clearly, after
a moments pause. but why need you
go if you have been-happy-here? All,
you-you have not many regrets. You
are glad, l Think
Indeed l am glad" and glad his face
looked-excited and eager. 1T is a
grand opportunity now that offers. You
can understand, if one has been planning
long. and waiting, that N might be
glad to see fulfllment near"
YES said Marie. That one word only,
and in her voice was the huskiness that
comes with tears.
"Ah. well, l see my way now, clear"
he continued, gayly and brightly. All
unconscious of the mute tragedy that
went on beside him, he poured out the
story of his disappointments in the past
OF his plans and visions for the future.
Marie listened silently. 1t seemed each
moment that the tide of her emotion
must burst all bonds and carry with it
the fine reserve of her nature, its
womanly dignity and pride. She called
up all her strength at last, in desperate
effort.
81 must leave you here" she said, stop
ping suddenly at a corner. III have
some business to dol will say good
night and goodbye. l hope you may
have a pleasant journey"
But surely notl / can not leave you
in this storm. Let me escort you where
you wish to go-so dark. and such u
rainl"
Il nave my own umbrella here She
raised it as she spoke. THANK you.
very, very much, but l prefer IL
go alone. And you know" smiling
strangely at him, Al shall nave to dc
without you escort altogether after
this. You have been more kind" She
broke off suddenly, and busted herself
with the fastening of her cloak; then
held out her hand. Goodbye she said,
abruptly.
Goodbye, Miss Prot, if it must be SO
if you wish it,"
"Oh, yes. Parting, l think. should
never be prolonged. l hope you will
have n good voyage. | hope you will
be always happy. Goodbye, Gustave.'
But Marie had wrenched her hand
from his and was gone, n dark. hurryinf
shape, down the lighted. rain-swepl
street.
"Marie,r
Sydney Worth had come out of tn,
opera after the second act, and having
buttored his long rubber oat to the
chin, was scudding up Fourteenth street
In an element defying humor. when this
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